


you leave behind a ghost

by Windmire



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, Post-Batman: Arkham Knight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 08:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16678096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windmire/pseuds/Windmire
Summary: The first few days after the debacle with Scarecrow--and the Penguin and the Arkham Knight--feel like a blur.A long, slow blur.But a new distraction presents itself soon enough: the Red Hood.There's one particular piece of information that, in the chaos following the Knightfall Protocol, Dick fails to get: the Arkham Knight's identity.





	you leave behind a ghost

The first few days after the debacle with Scarecrow--and the Penguin and the Arkham Knight--feel like a blur.

A long, slow blur.

The Arkham Knight disappears. Tim leaves. Barbara leaves. Bruce and Alfred are _missing_. And Dick's left alone, with two cities full of people equal parts emboldened and scared off by the whole mess. For him alone to deal with.

Honestly, he doesn't feel he has the time to even stop and think about it all, busy as he is dealing with the usual crime. And foiling the Penguin's escape attempt. And putting the fear of the Bat back into those who hear _Bruce Wayne is Batman_ and laugh.

Or _trying_ to put the fear of the Bat back into them. But he tries not to think about how successful his attempts may or may not be.

The thing is. The thing is, regardless of how much he runs himself ragged, it doesn't take long for people to start looking at _Dick_ suspiciously.

And that's when he has to pull himself out of the haze. He covers up the fading bruising and plays the part of the shocked, grieving son. But he knows how it looks. He knows what people are thinking.

He knows how suspiciously they look at him, knows just how many people must be trying to draw connections between Richard Grayson and Nightwing. And there's only so much he can do about it on his own.

No matter how scarce Richard Grayson makes himself, and no matter how present and obvious he is in his grief, he'll never shake off the suspicions that easily. Hell, he has to admit he's surprised no one's brought him in for questioning yet.

He probably has Gordon to thank for that.

He could let it consume him. He could dedicate his every waking moment to fighting threats to Bruce's legacy as both Nightwing and Richard Grayson.

But a new distraction presents itself soon enough.

The Red Hood.

And it doesn't take the world's greatest detective to connect him to the Arkham Knight.

Knowing that, he feels he's more than a little justified in being wary of the guy at first.

But as the weeks go on, the guy... doesn't try to take over Gotham again. (Low bar, he knows.) And Dick can't even begin to approve of his methods, kind of just wants to get rid of the guy's guns one by one, but he definitely seems to have switched sides for good.

And. Huh. Maybe Bruce said something to him.

But that's the problem, too, isn't it?

He thinks Bruce might have figured out the Arkham Knight's identity at one point during that night. He remembers getting that impression from what snatches of conversation he could catch over the comms, in between everything else. And if Bruce found out, Alfred and Barb must have, too.

But Barbara left with barely a word, and he's heard very little from her since.

And Bruce and Alfred...

He swallows and makes himself let go of the thought.

Not a road he wants to take just yet.

So he's on his own in this, too. And to say he's got mixed feelings about that is probably an understatement.

They kind of fly out the window whenever he runs into the guy himself though.

An exasperated " _Nightwing_ " greets him this time, when he comes in through a window in a building not too far from where Black Mask was last seen.

"Hood!" he calls out in response, cheerful as can be, when he catches sight of the men surrounding the Red Hood.

On the ground.

Unconscious, he hopes.

"Get the hell out of here." Hood sounds tired, if anything, like he can barely even be bothered to deal with Nightwing, much less put any heat into his voice.

But Dick knows how to deal with this.

"Aww, don't tell me. Not happy to see me?"

The Red Hood doesn't answer.

So Dick moves closer, weaving between the (unconscious, definitely unconscious) bodies on the ground. "Hood, Hood. I can't believe you didn't invite me to this party. I know Black Mask's gone dark on us, but he was never exactly the life of the party anyway, huh?"

Up close, Dick can just about make out what looks like a list of names on the notebook the Red Hood's leaning over, right smack in the center of the room.

Huh. Probably worth looking into.

The Red Hood sighs, the sound distorted by his voice modulator. "I don't have time for you. Why don't you run back to wherever you've been hiding?"

"Sorry!" Dick grins, all teeth. "No time to hide. Not with guys like you running around."

"Yeah?" The Red Hood straightens up, turning to face Dick. "Guys like me..." He crosses his arms, leaning against the small table. His voice comes out soft through the modulator, just above a whisper. "What are guys like me?"

Dick shrugs and, tone light, says, "You know, the kind of guys who go on rampages through the city."

The Red Hood scoffs. "You here to bring me in then, Nightwing? Lock me up nice and cozy next to Scarecrow? Maybe in what was supposed to be Black Mask's cell?"

Dick frowns. It's probably what he _should_ be trying to do. It'd be the safest option for the whole city, hell, for Red Hood himself if someone else finds out he's the Arkham Knight.

But.

But he hasn't forgotten who helped Bruce in the end.

Crap, he's getting all sentimental these days. "Nah. No point," he says instead, slowly moving closer to the Red Hood. "I think we can understand each other better than Arkham or Blackgate ever could."

The Red Hood is silent, striking Dick as almost considering. "We understand each other, huh? You really think so?" he asks, slamming the notebook shut without even turning back to look at it. "That's just fucking like you," he goes on, an edge entering his voice. "You're as arrogant as ever."

Dick snorts. "I'm so flattered you know me so well already," he says sardonically. "Been watching me a lot these past few weeks?"

"Cut the crap," the Red Hood says, voice even lower. "That's nowhere near as funny as you think it is."

Dick pauses. Huh, struck a nerve there? "Aww, don't tell me you really have been!" He presses a hand to his chest and grins brightly. "Aw, shucks. You could've just talked to me."

"Talked to you?" His voice drops to just barely above a whisper and Dick gets the impression he's looking straight at him. Then, abruptly, his voice rises to a shout. " _Talked to you_? Are you fucking kidding me?! What exactly would talking to your self-righteous ass have accomplished?"

Dick takes an involuntary step backward, eyes widening. Did he misread this? "Hey, easy there, Hood," he says, conciliatory. "I'm just saying. Whatever's going on, you can probably stop wasting all your time clearing out Black Mask's men. You talked to Batman at some--"

" _Don't_ ," Hood bites out. "Don't you _dare_."

Well, that risk didn't pay off.

"No? You trying to tell me you didn't?"

"I'm trying to tell you to shut the hell up, that's what I'm saying! You--" Hood cuts himself off, slicing a hand through the air. "Enough," he says roughly. "I don't have time for you."

He snatches the notebook off the table and, without another word, he's pushing past Dick.

Dick watches the guy leave right out the window he came in through, eyebrows raised. He doesn't bother to call him back and doesn't bother to go after him, just watches him go in silence. Until he's left alone in the room, surrounded by unconscious gangsters.

That didn't quite go where he expected it to.

He's missing something here. He just can't tell what.

But what's one more mystery nowadays anyway? Especially one no one else can help him with.

He doesn't even need the help. Honest.

-

"--he has contingency plans upon contingency plans. This can't have been his plan if he gets unmasked. _No_ way."

"Well, he didn't exactly share any of those plans with any of us, did he, Dick? Not even you or me." Oracle crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair to look Dick in the eye.

"No. No, no. You don't seriously _think_ \--"

"I don't seriously think he'd do something like this to Alfred, no. But I don't. _Know_. What this is either. We still haven't found _anything_."

"That doesn't mean we won't!" Dick shook his head, desperately a little voice in the back of his head told him. He ignored it. "If we could just find a way into the Cave, we'd find..."

Oracle's glare turned into a frown, her eyes narrowing in something close to pity. "Dick," she began, surprisingly gentle for someone still in the middle of an argument. "Even if we could reopen one of the tunnels, I don't think there's going to..."

" _No_ ," Dick interrupted, "That's his life's work. It's everything _we_ all worked for. He's not... He's not going to just get rid of it!"

-

Two weeks since the last time he was able to enter his apartment building _in Bludhaven_ from anywhere but the windows and roof finds Dick on a rooftop on the other side of the city. He's wracking his brains for the last time he talked to someone who wasn't two seconds away from calling the cops or the reporters on him and, much to his dismay, coming up with nothing. Gordon and Lucius don't count. And neither do the sporadic calls he gets from Tim and Barb.

Idly, he considers sending Scarecrow a gift basket. Some fruit and a nice little _thanks for ruining everything_ card, maybe. He can even throw in some flowers, if he can get to a bank.

For his bank account that'll soon probably be as frozen as every single Wayne account, but to hell with the details.

A loud thud breaks through his thoughts, followed by what he's sure is the sound of someone getting knocked on their ass in the street below. It doesn't take Oracle to know what's going on down there.

He grins. Thank goodness for the usual Bludhaven scum. He's finding it's the best damn way to keep his mind off the usual everything lately.

Slowly, he rises to his feet and steps closer to the edge of the rooftop. When he leans forward, there is indeed a scuffle going on in the alley between the buildings. A few guys, real rough-looking, and half of them looking like they're getting the shit beat out of them by just one guy (and sounding like they'd rather be calling for their mommies, but Dick's not judging). But that's not the most interesting part of it all.

No, no. It's the _guy_ handing their asses to them that's most interesting.

The guy who's wearing a red hood that's very familiar by now.

Jackpot.

Dick watches one guy drop like a stone when Hood punches him and another trip over himself to avoid another swing until he's had just about enough of watching. He leaps off the rooftop, lands and rolls behind one unlucky sucker, and is back on his feet just in time to get to kick the guy straight in the gut.

The Red Hood ignores him. And that just can't stand.

"Fancy seeing you in Bludhaven!" Dick calls out cheerfully, aiming a grin Hood's way. "I knew you'd been watching me!"

"Cut the crap, Nightwing," Hood calls out in answer as he drops another guy with a move so graceful Dick has to stop and stare for a moment. (Whoa.) "I don't need your help, you can leave!"

Not the most promising of welcomes. He still sounds a hell of a lot more cheerful than last time though, so Dick'll take it. 

"Aw, really? But I was _so_ glad to see you, Hood! You telling me it's not the same for you?"

"You fucking wish, birdbrain."

He then _completely ignores_ Dick as he knocks out the last couple guys, barely even giving Dick a chance to get some more hits in himself. Once the last guy is down, he turns right back around and pushes past Dick, toward the mouth of the alley.

All without a single word.

Dick shakes his head in disbelief, huffing out a surprised laugh. "Hood! Really! You're not leaving already, are you?"

Hood stops, looking over his shoulder at him. "That was kinda' the idea, yeah," he says, not yelling this time. That's probably a good sign. "I thought I told you before. I don't have time for you."

He rests a hand on his hip. "Come on, Hood," he says, cheeky smile and all. "You can't just leave like that! After I helped you and everything."

Try as he might, he still can't seem to get a read on the Red Hood, but this kind of thing's gotten reactions out of him so far. He just has to hope it works again.

Hood sighs, but does turn around to face Dick. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Hey, you're the one in _my_ city. And when someone's throwing a party like this in _my_ city, I figure I'd better crash it."

"Your city? Not Gotham?" He thinks that might actually be a laugh that comes out of Hood's voice modulator, but Dick can't be sure he's not hearing what he wants to hear there. "You been pulling a double shift, Nightwing?"

Dick grins, and even he's not sure how sincere it comes out. "Oh, you know how it is. Never enough work. I got two whole cities to take care of right now."

Hood falls silent then, the silence stretching out for long enough that Dick begins to wonder whether he's about to storm off again.

"Why?" Hood asks.

"Why," he repeats, voice bland. His brain skips on the question, back and forth, back and forth.

_Why?_

"Yeah. Why?" Hood repeats, voice turning soft again. "You've lost the mystique now, none of these guys are scared of you anymore. And they're all trying to find out who _you_ are. So. _Why_?"

Dick doesn't hear anything past _mystique_. All he can hear after that is a siren somewhere in the city, voices in the distance. And it's like he can hear the sirens from that night, fading into the rushing in his ears, to the absolute silence in his comms.

And his mouth opens and words are spilling out of his lips before he's even fully aware of it. "Whose fault is that, exactly?" he snaps.

Then the words sink in, the harshness in his voice, and Dick sucks in a breath.

No.

And Hood breathes in, loud enough he can hear it through the helmet. But he doesn't speak, he doesn't move, just stands there like he's staring at Dick and.

And. No.

"Shit," he blurts out. "Shit, no. I didn't... Shit, Hood, I didn't come here to talk about that."

He can't talk about that. Christ, he doesn't even want to think about that.

Dick takes a step forward, half-expecting Hood to either turn tail and run or try to beat his face in. But he does neither. He just stands there and Dick is absolutely, positively sure he really is just staring at him.

But there's a stillness about Hood, like he's rooted to the spot in this filthy Bludhaven alley, like it's _what Dick said_ that's fastened him to the floor and...

He doesn't want to do this.

"Hey, Hood," he says. "Look, I'm not here to fight you or anything, I just--"

Slowly, Hood shakes his head. "You know. That much work'll kill ya," is all he says, slowly, deliberately.

Dick blinks and has to cast back to their earlier conversation--from minutes ago, _minutes_ ago--but by the time he's even managed to figure out just what Hood's referring to, the guy's turned right back around and left the alley. All before Dick can even try to follow him.

He doesn't try to chase after him anyway.

Score zero for the Boy Wonder.

-

They searched, after the explosion. It was just him with a little help from Gordon and Lucius, with Oracle guiding them and Tim in the hospital. But they really did search those first few days. They dodged the press, and the cops, for long enough that Dick's sure Gordon pulled more than a few strings, to search through the grounds, the cave system, but...

But all they found was a smoldering ruin of a house and collapsed tunnels blocking off every entrance to the Batcave.

And those first few days... It was as if someone had blown a hole clean through his chest. As if someone had a vice grip on his heart and kept squeezing harder every day they couldn't find anything about Batman or Alfred. Not even any proof that they weren't there when it blew.

Then Tim and Barbara left the city and the questions and suspicious looks and glares were suddenly a hell of a lot harder to dodge. And that's when he didn't have time to wallow anymore.

But the truth is there's a lot Dick doesn't let himself think about.

-

The third time isn't quite the charm.

But this time, when Dick runs into the Red Hood, there aren't any unconscious, or soon to be unconscious, men around, and Hood doesn't look like he's about to run out on him. So Dick's counting that as a win.

He finds him in Gotham this time, near Oracle's (empty, but he's got no interest in dwelling on that right now) clocktower. He spares a moment to regret not asking Barbara about when he kidnapped her, finding out a little more about just what the hell happened there, but it wasn't like any of them were that eager to talk about their own captures, then or now.

No, that's just knowledge he's going to have do without for this.

It's with careful steps that Dick approaches him where he's sitting on the edge of a rooftop, the clock face in his direct line of sight, his hands resting on either side of him.

By the sudden tensing of his shoulders before Dick reaches him, the Red Hood must hear him before he sees him.

"Nightwing," he says without turning to look at him, and Dick's sure he's not imagining the wary edge coming out of the voice modulator.

"Hood," Dick answers, making a concerted effort to keep his tone much lighter. "Can't say I was expecting to see you here, of all places."

Hood laughs, a low sound. "Didn't expect me to return to the scene of the crime?"

He frowns, coming to a stop just behind and to the left of Hood. "You know she's not there right now?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do. I'm not looking for her."

Dick bites the inside of his cheek. Well, this quiet, subdued Red Hood sure is new. He really doesn't want to think about how off-balance this guy has him though. "Looking for someone else?"

"Nope." Hood looks up at him then, the bright red of the helmet almost blood red in the dim lighting of the rooftop. "What do you want?"

"And here I thought we were getting along so well," Dick says dryly. He looks down at his boots, then down at Hood again and, certain he's about to regret his decision, he lets himself drop down on the ledge next to him. Hood twitches and turns his head back toward the clocktower, but says nothing as Dick pulls one of his knees up to his chest. "Maybe I just wanted to say hi?"

"Yeah? I don't think so. What do you want?"

Dick sighs, pressing a hand to his chest. "You try to be ice to the homicidal guys in masks and this is the thanks you get? Geez, Hood, way to make a guy feel welcome."

"Funny," Hood says, sounding anything but amused. "I guess that means I should probably go. Wouldn't wanna keep bothering you, yeah?"

"Wait," Dick says, just as Hood presses his hands against the ground. "I did wanna talk to you."

The helmet turns toward Dick again, tilting just slightly. "I'm listening."

Dick licks his lips. Off-balance. Yeah, he's definitely off-balance with today's subdued Hood. Maybe he's remembering whatever happened with Barb? "Last time I saw you. You asked me why I do it." He looks straight into Hood's faceplate, as close to eye contact as he's probably going to get here. "Because I have to. Because Batman worked too hard on all of this for me to let it all go to waste. And..." He sighs. So this is what his life has come down to. Spilling his guts to the one other guy left in Gotham who's probably as crazy as he is. "And I do care about both of these cities, you know?"

And he promised Bruce he'd keep taking care of Bludhaven. He's just not ready to say that out loud yet.

There are more words he wants to say, just on the tip of Dick's tongue. He wants to ask why he did it, why the Arkham Knight saved Bruce in the end, just _what_ Bruce must have said to him at some point. But the words just won't come, can't seem to get past his teeth.

It's been weeks since he was even able to say Bruce or Alfred's names out loud. _Batman_ doesn't count.

"Even with everything that's happened to everyone who gets into this whole mess?" is what Hood says though, throwing Dick for a loop.

He starts. No. The guy can't be talking about...

"Yeah, didn't wanna talk about _that_ , did you?" Hood says, more than a little snidely. "Now that the Joker's gone you think you can just forget all about it?"

"Hood..." Dick's heart pounds in his ears. Barbara. He has to be talking about Barbara. She must have mentioned something about what the Joker did to her, he must have figured something out, something must have tipped him off while he and Scarecrow had her.

Because he can't possibly be talking about both her and _Jason_ , can he? Much less just Jason.

He can't possibly be.

Dick breathes in deeply, lets it go, and says, "That's probably not something you should be talking about with me."

"Yeah?" And there's that now-familiar edge creeping back into Hood's tone, somewhere between hostile and exasperated. He scoffs. "Now you can't talk about it with me, right. Right. Aren't you tired of this yet?"

"What?"

There it is again. That _something_ he's missing. And he could probably begin to try to unravel the whole thing, try to poke at just what Hood could be referring to, just what he did to make him react this time, but his brain keeps skipping on his words, going back to _Jason, Jason, Jason_.

Hood can't have been talking about Jason.

But Hood doesn't mention any of the Joker's victims again. He just scoffs again and pushes himself up to his feet. "Forget it, Wonder Boy." And Dick doesn't hear whatever he says next.

He just finds himself staring out into the city, eyes catching on the darkened clocktower, as the Red Hood storms away yet again.

God, he's so tired.

-

There's a lot Dick hasn't let himself think about the last few years.

Jason's probably number one or two on the list. He's not sure anymore after that night with Scarecrow and the Arkham Knight, but it's high up, neatly filed under _We Don't Talk About This_.

Back then, back when Jason was Robin and Dick was just taking his first steps out of Gotham as Nightwing, they... met. They knew each other. He still doesn't know how he'd classify their relationship, but they were close in age and it was before Barb came around. Once he got past the resentment at Bruce for giving someone else _his_ name, he even appreciated having someone else who knew what it was like to be Robin.

And maybe they even grew close as allies. Maybe they even grew close enough to be friends. He doesn't know. He can't ask Jason what he thinks.

Eventually though, eventually he realized they weren't _quite_ friends, not exactly. There was... something there between them, a tension, a pull, never given voice and never acted on. But it was _there_ , Dick knew it like he knew the beat of his own heart. And, eventually, he could see it in Jason's eyes every time he looked at him.

It would have been so easy to do something about it, to pull him aside and spill his fucking guts out like he should have.

But then Jason died.

And there is just so much Dick regrets.

* * *

 

All considered, Dick probably shouldn't have been surprised when someone got bold enough to nab Richard Grayson.

It's dusk when it happens. He's in Gotham for the day, fresh out of a meeting with Lucius and on his way back to his bike and he's almost running late if he wants to be at Bludhaven again in time. Definitely _already_ running late if he wants to hit up both cities.

That's when Dick hears the footsteps behind him and he breathes in sharply. Oh, he's got a bad feeling about this.

He doesn't break his stride, just veers away from where he parked his bike and down another street. One block, two blocks, three... And still the same steady footsteps behind him. Three guys, he's sure. Definitely after him, specifically.

Half a block later, he hears the footsteps behind him pick up speed and he's just about to duck into an alley, when a hand grabs his arm _hard_.

Still in full view of everyone around.

Bold move. Definitely way too bold of a move.

Dick twists in the man's grip, baring his teeth up at him just as he hears another one approach behind him.

Ugly Number One grunts when Dick drives his elbow into his gut and when he slams the heel of his boot into the foot of the one holding his arm, the grip on his arm loosens.

It tightens again just as quickly, tight enough to pull him backward again, just as he hears a gasp somewhere nearby.

Dick freezes, in the middle of lifting his arm to pull out of the guy's grip, when he catches sight of the terrified face of the woman Ugly Number Three's grabbed.

"Nice and easy, man," Number Three says, tightening his arm around her neck.

Dick scoffs. "Come on, Batman isn't gonna come swooping in and save me. What are you trying to get out of this?" he says, eyes going from person to person. If he's quick enough, he can knock the guy holding him flat on his ass and grab the woman all before Number Three can hurt her and the other guy can intervene. He'll just have to start by...

"Oh, don't worry your pretty little head about that. We got what we wanted."

That was just about all the distraction they needed though, he realizes, just as pain blooms at the back of his head.

When he comes to, he's got his hands tied behind his back, something hard digging into his leg, and the sinking certainty that he's an absolute idiot.

The sound of soft conversation washes over him, interspersed with the occasional laugh, and a quiet shuffling sound he's sure means someone's playing cards not too far away from him.

Great. They nabbed him and he's got his own guards. Again.

Stupid, stupid. It was only a matter of time until someone tried something like this. He should have been more prepared. He should have had some kind of concrete plan.

Or maybe he just should have listened when Lucius suggested extra security measures.

God, his head's been a mess lately.

Making sure his breathing's even, he opens his eyes a crack, finding he's in a dim room with nothing but a wall in front of him.

Carefully, he turns over slightly. There's what looks a loose tile digging into his leg and he rolls away from it and onto his front. That's when he spots them.

He rolls his eyes. The three guys from before around a folding table, playing cards.

Oh, these have to be Penguin's men. Again. Not the ones who grabbed him before, but he's sure there has to have been some restructuring since Penguin's been arrested.

He'll take it though. The way things stand, with how loosely his hands are tied together, it'll be a piece of cake to get out of this room. Either Penguin's hiring some particularly incompetent men now or they've got something nastier waiting for him outside of the room. Either way, he's willing to take his chances.

Dick pulls himself up to a sitting position, already working on loosening the knots.

Too bad one of the guys picks just then to look over at him. And that's. Fine. That's fine. He can still work with that. Hell, it might be more fun this way.

"Hey, guys!" one of them, the one he's sure was the one to knock him out, crows. "Look who's awake already!"

Dick frowns. "Yeah, nice to see you guys again, too. Can we skip to the part where your boss comes in here to gloat though? I'm kind of pressed for time."

One of the guys snickers. "It ain't the boss who wants you! He's just getting paid to take ya to someone."

"It'll pay for his lawyers!" one guy chimes in.

"Shut up, man!"

"Who?" Dick asks carefully. Now this he's got to hear.

The first guy shrugs. "Someone who really wants to get rid of everything that's left of Bruce Wayne."

"Or someones!" One of the other guys laughs.

"Maybe it's just a lot of the people your boss put away."

Dick swallows. "He wasn't my boss. Just because he was Batman doesn't mean I've ever had anything to do with all of that."

"Sure you don't."

"I don't."

One of them shrugs. "Not my problem. The boss wants ya, the boss gets ya."

"How would all of them even work together on this?"

"You forget who was doing all that time together in the GCPD? I hear they even had their own shared cell."

That much is true, all right. Jesus. Is even the way they all got arrested coming back to bite them all? His fingers itch for his phone.

He needs to call Barbara.

"So which one of 'em are you, anyway?" One of them, the guy that grabbed him on the street, asks. "Robin?"

Dick rolls his eyes. "How about none of them? I told you."

"Yeah and I still don't believe that for a second, wise guy." He elbows his buddy, raising his eyebrows. "They said Nightwing was real mouthy, didn't they? Think this is him?"

"They said that about Robin, too, man. I don't know. I don't care."

"Aww, come on. Don't you wanna know which one they're gonna get rid of?"

"No?!"

Dick loosens the last of the knots as they argue, almost disappointed at how easy it was.

Amateurs.

He's disappointed again though, when just as he lets the rope slip from his wrists, a sudden commotion overshadows it all.

It doesn't take long before it's the Red Hood himself bursting into the room and, really. Really, should he even be surprised at this point?

Like his own personal knight in shining armor, the Red Hood takes them all out like it's nothing. He's actually kind of impressed.

Even if he's got a bad feeling about why _the Red Hood's_ come to the rescue.

He's still sitting, playing the good little kidnapped rich boy, when Hood approaches, stepping over the men he's just knocked out to stand over Dick.

Just knocked out, which is pretty remarkable, really, for the Red Hood. He's not quite sure what to make of that.

Dick looks up at him warily. This isn't Nightwing running into, or even seeking out, the Red Hood again. This is the Red Hood finding _Richard Grayson_ where he's been taken to help some assholes' grudges. He's not sure how to play this just yet, how Bruce Wayne's son should be responding to this.

Shit, he needs some sleep. This is something he should have figured out already.

Before he can come to a decision, Hood leans forward and offers Dick a hand.

Dick blinks. Yeah, he _really_ should have expected that.

He takes Hood's hand and lets him pull him to his feet, then takes a step backward.

"Hey, thanks for that!" He settles for a cheery, if puzzled, tone, curling his lips in a grin. "Can't say I was expecting this rescuer! So why'd you come looking for me?"

Hood scoffs. "Didn't know it was you. But even if I had, why the hell wouldn't I have?"

"I don't know. You don't strike me as the type to save random civilians."

"What?" Hood shakes his head, then lets out an exasperated groan. "Never mind. You thought wrong. Just come on will, you?" he says, voice gruff. "I don't think you're gonna be pulling a Batman here any time soon."

Dick blinks. Ah... Batman, huh?

He holds his hands up in front of him, smile turning tight. "Hey, thanks for rescuing me, seriously. And I believe you that you didn't know it was me. But after that? if I got no connection to Batman beyond the obvious. Whatever you're looking for, I don't know. Sorry."

The silence that falls over them is tense enough Dick has to stop himself from shifting on his feet. He gets the impression Hood is staring at him. And he's just about to break the silence himself, the words don't matter as long as he says _something_ , when Hood takes a step backward.

"You..." Hood shakes his head. "Are you fucking with me right now? Seriously?"

"What? No, it's nothing like that. I just--"

But he seems to have inadvertently pushed another button there.

" _Stop pretending you don't know me!_ " the Red Hood all but bellows.

Dick freezes.

Even through the helmet, even through the voice modulator, he can hear Red Hood's ragged heavy breathing. And he just can't get past that sound, past the suddenness off it.

"Hey," he says. "Seriously, I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not pretending--"

" _Shut up_! Is this funny to you? Are you laughing every time, just a big ol' joke at my expense?!" He spreads his arms, shaking his head violently. "Because it's not fucking funny, _Nightwing_."

Dick starts, eyes widening in alarm. "You know those guys weren't right, don't you?" he tries, well aware he's just on the cusp of babbling here. "I told you. They just grabbed me because of Bruce Wayne, not because they've got any proof I'm Nightwing or Robin or, hell, freaking Penguin! I'm just--"

"Don't lie to me."

"Hood," Dick says, louder, firmer, this time. And it's a damn miracle his voice doesn't just come out a shaky whisper. "I'm sorry, but I really don't know what you're talking about. The first time I met you was only-"

" _Enough_! I... I..."

There's silence again, like they're teetering on the edge of _something_. Dick barely even dares to breathe, he can't take his eyes off that helmet.

Then Hood sighs heavily. "You really don't know who I am." He lets out a choked laugh. "God, you're not lying, are you? He really didn't fucking tell you." He slams a fist against the table, breathing growing even more ragged as he bows his head. "He didn't tell you."

"Who? Batman?"

"Yes, fucking Batman! He didn't fucking tell you and..." Another choked laugh and he lifts his head again to look at Dick. "Neither did Oracle, did she? Christ, why didn't they fucking tell you?"

"Everyone was kinda busy and, hey, did you know I got myself captured?" he jokes.

Hood doesn't laugh.

Instead, movements just slightly off, he straightens up again and pushes his hood back with one hand and lifts the other to the helmet. "Guess I'm just gonna have to show you myself," he says faintly, just a faint hissing sound comes from the helmet.

Dick's breath catches in his throat.

This is it then.

The faceplate on the helmet lifts, exposing the Red Hood's face and Dick...

Dick.

He gasps. " _Jason_ ," he whispers, his voice cracking on the name.

He feels rooted in place, like his brain just can't reach his legs or arms. Penguin's men must have hit him harder than he thought, because he cannot possibly be seeing what he thinks he's seeing.

Jason Todd cannot possibly be the Arkham Knight and the Red Hood. Jason Todd cannot possibly be there, standing in front of him.

"Surprise," Jason says weakly and _that's his voice_. Without the voice modulator, that's _his voice_.

There's a burning behind Dick's eyes.

"Jason," he chokes out again. Before he knows it, he's closed the distance between them and finds himself staring up at Jason helplessly.

Funny. He doesn't even remember moving.

Jason's face twists in surprise when he raises a hand, letting it hover just inches from Jason's cheek.

If he closes that distance, if he touches Jason now, will he disappear? Will he wake up again in this room, alone, with no rescue coming?

Or worse: will he wake up in his own lonely apartment?

Jason doesn't move.

Dick lets his hand rest on Jason's cheek and Jason still doesn't move. He furrows his brow and his frown grows deeper, but he doesn't move away. If anything, he leans into the touch slightly, almost imperceptibly.

Taking in a shaky breath, Dick runs his thumb over the scar on Jason's upper lip, his eyes skipping over the J on his cheek. His heart wrenches at the very sight of it and he just... He can't focus on it.

"Jason," he whispers.

Jason's face just _crumples_ and before Dick can react, he's burying his face in Dick's shoulder, his hands gripping tightly at the fabric of Dick's shirt.

Dick wraps his arms around him and pretends he can't hear him cry.

-

Later, he doesn't quite remember how he convinces Jason to come back with him to Bludhaven. But a few hours later, he's got Jason Todd--who is _alive_ \--in his apartment, fresh out of the shower and wearing some of Dick's clothes that are just a little too small for him.

It's the best thing Dick's ever seen.

Jason shifts on his feet, not meeting Dick's eyes. "I should probably go," he says softly. So soft it's still, frankly, kind of throwing Dick off.

"You don't have to," Dick blurts out. "You could..." He bites his lip. "It'd be okay if you stayed here for tonight." 

Jason does meet his eyes then, something... strangely intense about them. "Yeah? You want _me_ to stay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"Can't imagine why, Wonder boy."

"What? Don't want to catch up?" Dick swallows, squeezing his eyes shut tight for a moment. No. No, maybe this isn't the right time for jokes. He sighs. "I think we've got a lot to talk about," he says, standing to close the distance between them. "Don't you?"

Jason doesn't look away.

And maybe that's all he can ask for right now.

**Author's Note:**

> HEY WHAT'S UP, I... wrote most of this back in April and only just now finished it oh my god. Oops.
> 
> I hadn't initially intended to write a continuation for this, but with how the ending turned out, well... stay tuned. Maybe. Possibly.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading!! ♥


End file.
